Small & Big

(See, blogging can accomplish the same inane stuff as Twitter.)

Because I’ve looked everywhere. Until I get my hands on that camera cord, you know, the black one that hooks up to the computer, you’ll have to make do with these: Separated At Birth? Stephen Colbert And My Cat Jokey Joke Public Service Announcement You’re On My Mind, For $1,000 Skunk Works UPDATE: Breaking news! This just in... Has the cord been sighted?

A few weeks ago I learned to paint. With color. The reason? I took a cartooning course with Mat Brown ( website ), of Building #19 fame. It was a blast! If you love humor, doodling, illustrating, and/or fine art, I highly recommend you take a cartooning class, any cartooning class. When you’re just having fun, you’re bound to learn, and laugh, a lot. Pardon the strong language but, Heck, isn’t humor always the best way to learn? Related Small & Big amusings: Oh, The Places You’ll Go (At Building #19) 15 Things I Learned At Art School

Nope, twit is to Twitter as tweet is to Tweeter . How come when you use Twitter you’re said to be posting tweets ? Ahem, wouldn’t that be (see above)? And doesn’t that make six million people, plus myself, twits?

The criteria used by Trina Robbins in her book, “ A Century of Women Cartoonists ,” is: “My definition: it’s a comic if it includes even one of the following—two or more panels, continuity, or speech balloons inside the panel.” I was not aware of the distinction. So, like, most of the stuff in The New Yorker would be cartoons, while Sunday newspapers carry comic strips. Here is a handy-dandy chart so’s we can remember: CARTOON COMIC Do you think, judging by my work above, that I’m better at comics or at cartoons? I’d very much appreciate knowing what you think. Please comment!

Is the logo above good or bad? You decide. Discussion topics: Nothing says hemorrhoid like a volcano-tsunami. But what other large-scale Earth events might the illustrator consider and why? One can sing so loud that hemorrhoids pop out. It’s in the movie “Anvil! The Story of Anvil.” Hemorrhoid Helper has little in common with Hamburger Helper. How are they different? Similar? How could co-branding them create market synergy? Aunty Henrietta’s been busy: she’s got a website and blog too.

It started with a jar of savory chocolate-laced peanut butter. It ended as above. Lessons learned: 1) chocolate peanut butter restricts typing; 2) chocolate peanut butter looks not unlike lumpy turd (#2, get it?); 3) tastebuds are little dictators . If you have a peanut butter allergy this post is possibly life threatening.

(Click it to bigify.) Click here to see the re-do.

(Click it to bigify.) I hear this often. Too bad the cut-off age for smoke-jumpers, of the dangerous jump-out-of-the-airplane-and-into-the-forest-fire sort, is 35. Heh heh.

Reason #3,756: Hand Puppetry (Click the right arrow to begin. It’s like 47 seconds long.) From Mason Mania , home of the missing sock.

Soundtrack to Disney’s feature length animation, “101 Dalmations,” played on my red portable record player/briefcase — Cruella De Vil rocked. The chorus sings how she made her husband take her last name. What a woman! Too bad about her puppy-skin coat fetish. (And that fat ugly husband.) Debbie Boone’s “You Light Up My Life” — For a third grader who enjoyed singing herself to sleep with sad tunes like “Leaving On a Jet Plane” and “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” this was I-T, in feathered hair. My younger brother’s musical selections — These included classics by Donald Duck, Alvin & the Chipmunks, and Wonder Woman’s theme song. I admired his musical maturity and confidence, especially with the 8-track tapes. Cory Hart, “Boy In the Box” — He wore sunglasses at night. ABC, “How To Be a Zillionaire” — How do I? That K-Tel one with “My Boyfriend’...

(Click it to bigify.) Last Sunday’s finding put escargot into my brain. So here’s my try at snail humor or hockey humor or, Oh man I’d love to drive a Zamboni, wouldn’t you? Especially on a hot summer’s day when just saying the word “ice” provides cooling relief. Ahhh.

Ever jad a dau tjat fe;t ;ole upi were kist pme leu pff. pme set pf fomgers pver. amd ;ofe jad mp De;ete leu Sogm/ We;;. jere we are/

Early Sunday morning I hastily tore apart my Boston Globe to get at the comics—Foxtrot, it’s been too long—only to find these two, printed one on top of the other: Rhymes With Orange and F Minus share a few similarities, eh? Two one-panel snail cartoons, two snails each, within a landscape where only one snail speaketh. Not only that but the left snails are in pretty much the exact same place. Later that afternoon, in real life, somewhere, somehow, an escargot sneezed. (Here’s my try at drawing a snail cartoon.)

(Click it to bigify.)